Tale of Two Cities: Alternate Ending
by JCWarriorCats
Summary: So my friend and I didn't like the ending to Tale of Two cities at all. So we rewrote it. It was a combined effort. Madam Defarges death redone and The last two pages edited to our liking. Beginning is my friends rant. Please R and R


Tale of Two Cities: Take Two

By Jessica C and Jesse N

*Why Dickens? Why? You can't just kill off our favorite character and let the vanillas live happily ever after! And that girl she was perfect and *pop* off goes her head too? Your such a bitch, don't be a dick Dickens and let us tell you how it should really have gone…*

…

Madam Defarge made at the door. Miss Pross shielded said door with her body, but Madam Defarge continued her advance. The ever so faithful servant in a panic lunged her arm forward and gripped the straggling strands of Madam Defarge's hair. The smaller woman in retaliation grabbed a hold of the weaker woman's neck and thrust her bodyweight against her to shove her back against the wall. Her fingers squeezed with the brutal force to match her raging temper. Miss Pross was sinking into a panic and tore at the other woman's clothes, the sound of ripping echoing within the empty room. Her hand suddenly grasped a thin and cold object, the object being none of the weapons that the citizeness was armed with. The object was the same tool used to knit-knit-knit the names of innocent souls into the bloodied hit list. The woman, who has never previously thought in her whole life of harming another living creature, raised the needle within her hand and struck blindly at the violent Madam before her.

An incoherent sound rose above the caterwauling of assault, and then the thunderous slapping of bare feet against stone as Madam Defarge staggered backwards, clutching at her face. Miss Pross stared dumbfounded at the Madam as she fell to her knees, strangled grunts and sounds ripped from her throat. Miss Pross dared a few steps toward the writhing figure that was busy trying as it seemed to dislodge the knitting needle from her eye. Madam Defarge's strength weakened, and the fingers slid limply from the object, and the body slumped to a lifeless corpse. Miss Pross edged forward a few more paces, minding the blood that was left from the wound, and checked to see if the wretched woman was really dead. It was true, the body still warm, but a heart beat no more, and a pulse was nonexistent.

...

"I am the Resurrection and the Life, saith the Lord: he that believeth on me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth on me, shall never die." Carton spoke once again this time to the seamstress and they awaited their impending doom.

The carriage suddenly came to a halt as an armed guard approached the horse drawn vehicle. An exchange of whispers was held between the soldier and the carriage driver. With a confused gaze, the carriage driver was dismissed and the soldier took over the duty of the reins. The carriage jolted back into movement and they drew nearer and nearer to the already in sight stage of which the Guillotine was held. The executioner stood, preparing, dressed within the black robes that gave him his title.

Suddenly as they were ever even closer, a prisoner screamed in fright and created a scene. "This is madness I tell you! Madness! I have been condemned unjustly! Is it a crime, to kill me on the only evidence of my wealth?" The carriage came to a halt in front of the stage and the soldier now driving gave a knowing smile.

"Though this be madness, yet there is method in't" the words were spoken from the soldier's lips and it seemed to stir some people within the crowd. The silence that followed was eerie and undisturbed. That is until the soldier jumped up, gun pointed toward the sky, a single shot fired and the crowd screamed in fright.

The Revolutionaries began to unsheathe their concealed weapons from their dressings in order to defend themselves from this seemingly new threat. The executioner stepped forward towards the carriage and pulled back his hood. The soldier simultaneously discarded the helmet and the two garments fell to the floor. The crowd gasped in disbelief at this new discovery. The two were not men after all but women. Scandalous as were their outfits at this point and time, they stood high and mighty, shameless and glared down at the oppressed who now were guilty of oppressing.

"You all curse upon the rich and privileged then become wastrel upon their lives, sending them to the Razor's jaws. You beg pity from your foreign neighbors when you are in fact disgustingly hypocritical. We have watched your glutinous figures succumb to hateful lust and tear apart your fellow humans. Have you no humanity left in your bodies? Violence by any other name would still cause injury and unrelenting misery." The woman soldier began. The executioner nodded and then began her part.

"Bloodshed upon bloodshed you have watched the heads fall at your feet. Who are the true heroes of this tale? You may claim the heroes are the people that have lead you to this state, but this is false. Nobody is the true hero. For centuries you bided your time to create equality amongst your nation. Now you have shamed it again by becoming what you loathe. Save yourselves from such brutality! We are here to set the record straight, to create an example. We shall take these innocent souls to a world past persecution. Where your judgmental clasps can no longer hold them." The women clambered back down into the carriage.

Several people began to cheer, people who probably were acquainted with the women. Others began to join the chorus of approving cries, having been so moved by the speech. All were rapidly silenced though by the angry Revolutionaries. They felt that death was the only way to repent for such aristocratic crimes. The Revolutionists began to riot forward to stop the young women as they went to ride off into the sunset as so many happy endings go.

The exacusionist sprung back to where the prisoners were, discarded her black cloak to revile her womanly attire of a dress and a bayoneted rifle in her clenched fist. The heel of her boots struck at the Revolutionists who dared to try and board their escaping vessel. The butt of her rifle slapped the face of Jacques Three who's gaze was obliterated when he was knocked out by such action. The woman in charge of the reins urged the horses onwards and the carriage took up pace to a runaway. The crowd ran after the galloping horses. As people brought up their guns to strike after the prisoners the executionist raised her own in turn and with lethal accuracy stopped their advances.

The crowd began to wither away into the distance. The prisoners were silent for the thought of being saved was still fresh in their minds. Their bewildered expressions were turned on the heroines of the hour. The executioner sat down with them when she deemed them safe of anymore attack. The carriage crossed over a bridge, breaking the prisoner's ties to Paris and their native country forever.

The Seamstress was cowering into Carton's frame and after the long pause of silence had reached its bearable limit, he spoke. "What luck have we to be blessed by such angels. I am sure I speak for everyone who is present when I ask for such angels names?" The executioner laughed at such a statement and the soldier made an irked expression.

"Dear sir we are far from angels. We are simply doing what is right." The executioner explained.

"As for our names, is such information truly necessary?" the soldier added on.

"Isn't it our right to understand what names our saviors hold, and where they may be taking us?" Carton pointed out.

"As to the location, we are going to the land of the free and home of the brave my friend. To where no more harm can come to you." The carriage driver said over her shoulder.

"Our names, if you must know, are Lilianna and Joanne." The executioner pointed to herself to indicate the first name as her own, then pointed to her friend to show she was Joanne. "Now pay mind to your friend there. Soothe her distress." Lilianna went on and turned her pointed finger to the Seamstress. Carton nodded, figuring if he needed to know more, he could ask at another time. He returned to the Seamstress and held her head to his breast, whispering comforting words.

The two women were silent from then on as their journey commenced. The carriage rode forward into the night with all of the prisoners thankful and no longer scared. The Revolutionaries were left with reflecting thoughts and this tale of two cities ended with the justice all deserved.

Chapter 16: Epilogue

As the years passed the sanity and peace fell back upon the two cities. Charles Darnay along with his wife, child, and newly conceived son by the name of the man they never knew to be saved lived happily in London. That day at the Guillotine was only known to the people present, and their generations of relatives. The perfect couple resumed their perfect life together as a family. Once all was well and safe, Darnay resumed his teachings of French in England. Dr. Manette helped raise his grandchildren alongside the woman with the expressive forehead. The children prospered and grew to be great people among the society in which they lived. Mr. Lorry resided from being a man of business once he had reached the climax of his work. Miss Pross and he married the same year he retired.

What of the man that was saved so many years ago though? He stands indeed in the land of the free and home of the brave. He adopted the ways of the American people, as was his only choice when one flees from persecution. There he took on a wife, the Seamstress, who's name became known to him as Annabelle. They had a single girl, and they named her Jillian after the two heroines, mixing their names into one. Carton resumed his career as a lawyer in order to free the innocent, knowing what can happen if such does not occur. He was the only lawyer in town and grew to be highly respected. His fragile wife opened up her own store so she could continue the skills she learned as a seamstress. The store was located next to their quaint little farm where they truly experienced for the first time in their lives the ultimate tranquility.

Sydney Carton pondered the thought of writing to his one friend and his previous love of his triumphs and survival. But with each day of pondering, he came to the same conclusion. He believed that he would only complicate such a matter further by bringing up such events. He did not want them to feel in debt to him. Though he missed them, for he had loved them dearly, he moved forward with his new family.

Times truly were the best as the contradictory worst seemed to have faded away. The age of wisdom prospered with more knowledge, and those that had given in to the foolishness, shed such ignorance away. The season of light shone brighter to smother the season of darkness. The hope was satisfied as the despair withered away. Those who had nothing before them were given new life and suddenly had everything before them. Those sinners who had otherwise made a mockery of angels were repented and turned back from the other way and sent to Heaven. No matter how many cities, two or more, those who are in the right will achieve the impossible whilst those who strive for the wrong will be chastised and sent before judgment.

FIN


End file.
